Passion || h.s.

Chapter 6

I woke up that morning alone. There was no Harry, not in the kitchen, not in the living room. No where. It was like he vanished, leaving me alone without a word. He didn't even leave a note, not that I expected it. He probably had a life outside of me, with his girlfriend and maybe a job. I shouldn't have to rely on him for everything, and make him help me through my issues.

That was insane... I was insane. Everything about this current situation wasn't normal and I didn't know if I could deal with it. I needed to get away for a while, leave and find something to calm me down. Harry had impacted me, marked me without blinking his eyes. I was addicted to him, constantly thinking about him, wondering what he was doing or how he was, and it hadn't even been a week, yet I felt like it was a lifetime, and I wasn't ready for that. I wasn't ready to feel anything for anyone, especially, someone with a girlfriend.

There wasn't a sound in the house as I got ready. No one watching TV, no one making breakfast. It was just me humming lightly to the tune of a song that I didn't know the words to. I felt alone, sitting in the kitchen eating a muffin. It wasn't the same as a freshly cooked omelet, and it didn't feel as fun because Harry wasn't there to make fun of me while I ate it.

I got up to put my plate in the sink, thinking about how pathetic I was. If this was one morning after not seeing someone I barely knew, what would happen if I got close to someone? Would I always be like this? I couldn't stand to see myself constantly hurt when I was alone.

"Michela?" There was someone at the door, calling my name. It wasn't Harry and it wasn't Sylvia, so who else could know I lived there? I reminded myself that not everyone wants to hurt me, and walked to the door, peering through the peephole. It was a man, and he looked about twenty-five years old. He seemed familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on him. I opened the door enough to stick my face out. "I heard you were here." He sighed in relief and began to walk inside, but I pushed him back, my heartbeat racing.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Michela, it's me, Niall. How do you not remember me? It's only been like two years." His voice hid a thick Irish accent, but he had obviously been in America for a long time.

"I'm sorry, I don't know you." I started to close the door, but his foot held it open, his gaze burning into me.

"Michela Anthony, don't ever shut me out." His voice dropped lower, scaring me even farther into the house. Niall followed me, shutting the door behind him. "How are you?" He asked me, settling on the couch.

"I've been better," I whispered. I sat across from him, wondering why he was sitting in my apartment in the first place. "Who are you?" I asked him again.

"Avery's brother. How do you not remember?" His face held confusion, obviously hurt that I had forgotten him. But as soon as he said it, I remembered. I remembered him at Avery's house, watching me while I laughed, listening to me cry about something. What was I crying about? I remembered his lips against mine, his hands caressing my body, holding me against him. That was when I was almost fifteen, almost five years ago.

"I do remember, I do now," I said to him, attempting a smile. For some reason, even though I remembered bits and pieces, I couldn't shake the feeling that whatever we had, it didn't end well.

"So if you remember, why are you looking at me like you're scared of me?"

What a good question. "I'm just surprised to see you. It's been awhile."

"Well yeah, all of us haven't gotten together since you and-"

The door swung open with incredible force, causing the photos to shake and the floors to shiver in fear. Harry walked in, hands shaking violently, his eyes bloodshot. I didn't have a clue what was wrong with him, but it shook me to the bone. I jumped of the couch, away from Niall and toward the back wall. Harry stalked toward us with dedication and pure rage in his eyes.